Forgive Me
by foreverwasmadeforus
Summary: Everyone just needs forgiveness. Characters belong to CP Coulter. Pairing: Julian/Logan. Rated M for language & violence.
1. One

**_Warning:_**_ Suicide, so if you're uncomfortable with that, I suggest you do not read this. Later on there may or may not be some violence, not too graphic or anything but I thought I should put that out there, just in case. _

_Dedicated to my friend, Peper, who also gave me this prompt. I just fell in love with it. It's a little confusing at first I'll admit, but bear with me. _

_**Disclaimer**: All characters belong to CP Coulter. _

* * *

><p><em>Cross my heart,<em>

_And hope to die,_

_Before I have the chance to lie_

_To you, my dear, who I wish no harm._

_But I know, in the end, this will turn out wrong._

* * *

><p>He hadn't meant to die.<p>

Not really.

But whether he had meant to or not, it didn't matter anymore.

What's done is done.

Is…Is this what it was like to disappear?

He wasn't quite sure if he did feel anything—at all.

* * *

><p>Nothing.<p>

That's what it was.

Limbo.

Forever suspended in-

Nothing.

* * *

><p>There are studies about how prisoners are driven mad during prolonged periods of time spent in solitary confinement.<p>

Humans are social creatures. It isn't purely the need for physical touch but the emotional and mental need as well.

Humans need interaction.

To be near their own kind.

Humans cannot spend all their time—stuck—listening to their own thoughts, it drives them mad.

Humans, he thought, are not supposed to be here.

* * *

><p>Was that a tug?<p>

But, he couldn't feel, could he?

He wasn't-

He couldn't feel.

Yet suddenly, a wave of heat washed over him—if there was a 'him' at all—it was burning, _painful_.

It ran through him, whatever he was made of—atoms, particles—they were on fire with the shock of the pain that was coursing through him.

Something was pulling him.

If he still had a body, it would be described as being pulled by the pit of his stomach, flying every which way and not having any idea of what was happening because he had forgotten.

Julian had forgotten what it was like to feel.

….

He could feel.

One final tug and the nothingness vanished.

He vanished.

* * *

><p>He had forgotten pain.<p>

He had forgotten a great number of things.

He had forgotten himself.

* * *

><p>Logan Wright didn't feel.<p>

His heart was pumping. He was breathing. He could feel the grass against his legs and the rough bark against his back.

But he didn't feel.

He didn't think he deserved to feel, especially now, as he leaned against the tree that stood tall by his grave. He still took his pills.

He felt his fingers rip apart pieces of grass uselessly, he stared at the grey headstone but he didn't see it.

He wasn't there.

He was lost in the nightmares that had once plagued him during the dark hours of the night and now crept into his mind during the day—he had thought it would be safe. That maybe the warmth of the sun could keep the dreams and his fears away, but of course, he was wrong. Memories bombarded him, day and night, he was too exhausted to sleep.

He turned his gaze towards the small pond, with dulled green eyes.

They were hardly even green anymore. Nearly black.

Had Julian been there to see it, it would've shattered his already broken heart.

But Julian wasn't there, and Logan was barely living.

It had only been a few weeks.

Two weeks, three days.

Seven hours.

37 minutes.

Logan had started counting hours and minutes…how odd, he had only thought that it was something people did in movies and TV shows to be overly dramatic.

But there was nothing dramatic about this.

He realized he _had_ to count the hours. He had to know how long it had been since his best friend died. He couldn't focus without making sure he knew how long it had been and then he had only the empty future without him to look forward to.

And sometimes he forgot.

He simply forgot.

Just this morning, he had gone into his room to return a long lost shirt that he had found.

He continued to tear the grass.

Derek had walked in—he had been looking for Logan—of course, he knew he would be there. He had simply leaned against the doorway as Logan stood in the middle of the empty room, not moving, not noticing him at all for a little less than an hour before Derek finally decided to pull him out.

He'd seen the defeated look in Derek's eyes when he saw that Logan had been clutching the shirt in his hands before limply dropping it on the floor.

And he had also seen the broken look in Derek's eyes when he sank to his knees and covered his eyes, hiding his tears that suddenly decided to fall, relentlessly.

It was the first time he had cried since that night.

Logan turned back to the smooth headstone, the letters of his name clearly standing out and dancing across his eyes.

A light breeze ruffled his hair and clothes, sweeping through the leaves overhead and caressing his skin as he leaned forward and brushed his fingers against the stone, it was cool to the touch.

He fiddled with the tulip, flipping it in his hands as his slender fingers played with the waxy white petals. He hadn't been able to put a flower at his grave yet. It felt too final, he wasn't ready to say goodbye just yet.

He didn't think he ever would be.

Not when he knew.

All those years….

Julian never uttered a word.

And now he never would.

Logan could only hear it from Derek, but he didn't want to anymore. He didn't want to hear it ringing in his own ears as he lay awake at night, waiting for the exhaustion to take him and put him under but it never did. Over and over again, it was like Julian was there, whispering in his ear. It was driving him mad.

He closed his eyes, tilting his head back; his eyelids were dark with lack of sleep.

He didn't want to be reminded about how he ended his best friend's life.

* * *

><p>Julian opened his eyes.<p>

Why was he seeing blue?

The lightest shade of blue he had ever seen, it was searing into his mind, and he felt as if he hadn't seen the sky in-well-forever.

He blinked, the bright sun bringing tears to his eyes as he took a deep breath, fresh air filling his lungs.

It felt as if he hadn't been _him_ in a long time.

A sound broke through his thoughts. He lay still, debating about whether he even wanted to move.

…Could he even sit up?

He wasn't quite sure, he hadn't remembered what that felt like.

The feeling of being able _to feel_ overwhelmed him for a brief moment and he gasped, his eyes clamping shut with the frustrating confusion that threatened to drive him over the edge.

He heard the sound again and he slowly sat up.

He was in some sort of field, but he blinked and soon there were grey headstones sticking out of the ground.

Then flowers—

—then clouds—

—then grass—

—and then—

—people.

Dressed in black, tears tracked down their faces and their eyes filled with grief. Grief and pain from losing a loved one.

Something inside him flinched at the sight.

Though it was just a funeral, there was nothing to be disgusted or fearful of.

Well, he thought, I shouldn't impose.

Rolling unsteadily to his feet, he stumbled a bit before regaining balance.

He had no idea why he was there.

_Must've been a dream._

All of it.

The roses, the stalker, the pain and constant fear.

The pills.

He felt something nagging at him, there was something else disturbing about that dream, something else important—very important.

He couldn't quite put his finger on it.

….Green?

Something very green.

He mused as he silently walked past the group of mourners, they didn't notice him at all. Could something be 'very green'?

His dreams never made sense. But they weren't supposed to, were they?

He still didn't know why he was here in this cemetery, or what happened.

And for some odd reason, it didn't bother him. Something told him that he should care and he should be worried—more than worried—but he pushed it away.

_Something very green?_

He made an annoyed sound in the back of his throat, forgetting that the mourners were there but when he glanced up at them-not a single one of them saw him. Slightly confused, he rushed past, something was off. Nothing felt right.

He realized that it wasn't that they didn't _notice_ him.

They didn't _see _him.

He panicked.

Why couldn't they see him?

He was there, wasn't he?

Suddenly, that feeling of being pulled came over him again and he felt that maybe he was still dreaming. Urgent tugging—someone, or something, was obviously trying to get his attention.

He looked down at his wrist, a thin red string was tied around it and he stared at the line that was pulling him. The string was taut and started pulling harder as he continued to stubbornly stand still.

He felt the slight edge of fear creep into his thoughts—but what could he be so scared of?

Finally, the pull won and Julian reluctantly let it guide him—following the path to whoever was pulling on the opposite end.

It wasn't long before he started to approach the edge of the cemetery, it was nicer here, a small pond, a few trees. His gaze traveling down the string as far as he could see, it seemed to lead to the tree closest to the pond.

He lazily walked up, curious about who was pulling him when all of a sudden, something felt terribly wrong.

Everything felt terribly wrong.

He was suddenly too conscious of how he did not feel his clothes, no soft brush of fabric.

The leaves on the trees were quivering in the wind and ripples traveled across the water of the pond yet he did not feel the breeze against his own skin.

The sun was blazing brightly, it was the afternoon, and he should be squinting. He should have felt the heat on his skin.

But he didn't.

He wanted to stop walking. Everything told him to stop walking, he was screaming at himself to stop and run as far as he could in the opposite direction.

But he kept walking towards the tree, a figure sat at the base, his feet moving on their own, as if a siren were calling and beckoning but-like the entranced sailors they sang to their deaths-he kept moving forward.

_Close your eyes, close you eyes, close your eyes._

He kept his eyes open.

And—

Everything hit him.

That missing piece, the other part of his dream.

What happened after the pills.

What he had been pulled back from.

Why he didn't feel the warmth of the sun.

Nothingness.

A broken voice seemed to flow from his lips as he finally stopped walking.

He was dreaming.

A nightmare, the nightmare, it was real.

_Something very green._

"-Logan."

* * *

><p><em>See—I've been known to fall in love<em>

_But sometimes love just is not enough._

_And my heart will stray, before too long._

_So please forgive me…_

_When I sing this song._


	2. Two

**Author's Note:** _Thank you LiliesAreWhite for the review :) Here is Chapter One, again, I apologize if it's a bit confusing and if there's anything I can do to fix it-let me know? I guess you could say I'm still sort of setting up and preparing for the rest of the fic-so this chapter is still a bit short-for me anyway. I'm not sure if I already did a warning for this but: language, suicide and violence [later on]. Also the song that Logan plays at the end is Haru Haru [Piano Instrumental] by Big Bang._

_Dedicated to my friend Peper._

* * *

><p><em>Dear, can you even see me?<em>

_Did you forget completely?_

_I am worried, I feel anxious because I can't get closer nor try to talk to you._

_I spend long nights by myself, erasing my thoughts a thousand times._

* * *

><p>Their son was intelligent, since primary school, he had been deemed gifted. He took advanced classes and though they were rich enough, he was smart enough to be able to be independent and know what he wants.<p>

It's always the gifted ones that choose this, they say-the doctors. They called it existential depression. It didn't stop his parents from hiring the best therapists to 'talk him through it'.

Adam was not depressed.

He closed his eyes in frustration, nearly punching the fridge as he leaned his forehead against it.

That idiotic friend of Julian's wasn't supposed to fucking find him.

Adam, standing there with the pill resting against his lips as he was ready to join Julian.

That was the plan all along.

But nothing ever went right for him, did it?

The one thing, the only thing, he's ever wanted and it goes completely wrong.

He's never asked for anything else and he never will.

At least not until he manages to have a few moments alone, but everyone is making that impossible.

He stood in the Hanover kitchen-being on suicide watch meant he wasn't allowed to spend time in his room by himself-so they moved him in with Danny. He was sorely tempted to slit his wrists with one of the kitchen knives but there were others milling about outside the kitchen. And it wouldn't be right; he was still making sure that Logan was miserable.

Just like how he made Julian miserable.

It was because of him that Julian was dragged down and unhappy. Adam just wanted to see him happy and he could only do that with Adam.

His room mate kept a close eye on him, also on the therapist's order, but he had to act like he cared so damn much.

Danny-how fucking peachy. He acted so understanding of what Adam was 'going through' and he was there along with everyone telling him about how 'it all gets better'.

It isn't getting better.

Julian took the pills, Adam needed to join him. It may not have started out like that, but once Adam came to see that it was the only way for them to be together, it became is sole focus to make sure they both took those pills.

That Siegerson guy freaked out when he saw Adam and even started to console him when Adam fought against him. Everyone had arrived too quickly for Adam to do anything.

It was all that Logan's fault. If he wasn't there, Adam and Julian could be together.

Something clicked; it was all Logan's fault. Shouldn't he be punished?

It wouldn't stop ringing in his ears, repeating over and over.

_It was all Logan's fault_

He knew what to do.

* * *

><p>"<em>Jules? Open up, come on."<em>

_Silence._

"_Damn it, Julian. Open the door!"_

_He groaned in exasperation before sliding the master keycard through the slot. _

"_Way to be a pain-"_

_He stopped; Julian was sleeping, of course. Though why he was sleeping on the ground escaped him and he walked forward. _

_At least he was sleeping. _

_He walked towards the bed and pulled off the duvet before walking back to where Julian lay; about to throw it over him, he paused._

_A long, terrible pause that was filled with complete and utter silence._

_Silence, because he stopped breathing as he listened carefully, his eyes widening. There was no steady rise and fall of the chest, there were no movements or sounds._

_Silence, because Julian was not breathing._

_The blanket fell as Derek dropped to the floor and shook Julian's shoulders._

"_Julian!" This wasn't happening. This couldn't be happening. It wasn't happening. "JULIAN!"_

Let me wake up. Let this not be real.

_ "Please, Jules—wake up."_

* * *

><p>Derek threw his books across the room in frustration; Mrs. Abernathy didn't even blink an eye. She just calmly walked over and set them back on the desk.<p>

"Mr. Siegerson, too much time in the library isn't good for you." She turned off the desk lamp and gestured towards the door, not unkindly, but comfortingly. "Some fresh air might do you some good."

Derek didn't look at the librarian but instead turned back to his work, scribbling furiously. He heard her sigh and walk away. He needed his work, it was a good distraction. Out there, where everything is nice and quiet, the only thing he would be able to hear would be his thoughts.

And his mind was a nightmare.

The shock of finding his best friend's body, no doubt. He angrily bit his lip as he made a failed attempt to actually focus on his work for Calculus. He wasn't even supposed to be working, at least that's what the teachers and administrators said, but screw it all if he was going to sit around and wait for some sort of 'okay' to get back to work. What else could he do?

What did they honestly expect him to do?

He was not one to sit around anyway, and they had made sure that the coaches wouldn't let him go to practice. Again, that didn't stop him from going out and running until he nearly collapsed with exhaustion.

He hadn't even been eating, he'd lost his appetite.

Even if drinking coffee on an empty stomach hurt, he didn't eat.

He didn't care—he knew that he really was going to collapse from exhaustion if he didn't stop but he couldn't help it.

And then after finding Adam, ready to kill himself too.

He wasn't going to let that happen either.

But he had already let one slip past his fingers.

He was there, all that time, how could he have not seen it?

Why didn't Julian feel safe enough to tell him? Ask him for help?

_Because you're a failure._

_Never good enough._

Derek snapped his pencil as a tear splashed on his paper.

* * *

><p>He didn't stare back.<p>

It was extremely disconcerting for him, that Logan couldn't see him.

"And this damn string won't let me run away."

He mumbled to himself, the silence that answered made him feel even more confused as he was pulled closer to Logan.

Much to his dismay.

Because it still hurt, it still felt like shit and he wanted to stop. He thought he had wanted it to stop at least. Because now, seeing him again after spending what felt like an eternity—dead—and still being stuck here, he didn't want to leave.

Remorse, for going through with it at all. How could this still be happening?

He was supposed to be moving on, away from this—away from Logan and everything else that had caused him to break.

Why was he still here?

Sitting down by his own headstone, he cried out at the sky.

"So is that fucking it? I off myself and you fucking pull me right back?"

He didn't know what to think, he just knew he needed to move on to heaven—or hell—or whatever it was that you went after you died because he certainly was not going to stay here with Logan. The one he had run away from.

The one he still loved.

He flinched as Logan turned to look at the spot where he sat.

Derek must've told him by now.

He felt more of him shatter as he thought about all the thoughts running through his head, he knew he would never love him back and that there was nothing to do about it. He didn't want to sit here and watch his reactions.

And curiosity got the better of him. Julian leaned forward, crawling slightly towards Logan until he knelt in front of him.

Something in the back of his mind wanted to see him suffer, wanted to see him torture himself, but he pushed that away as he reached out and watched his hand simply disappear. It was what he was expecting but that expectation hadn't prepared him for it. He swallowed nervously before looking at Logan's eyes. Startled he pulled his hand away, they were so dark. Where was that bright, piercing green gaze? Looking into them now, something twisted in his gut.

"Logan…"

He heard it in his own voice, the pity.

His darkened green eyes did not meet Julian's, nor would they ever.

"That's just the worst part, isn't it?"

Julian jumped away as Logan spoke distantly, staring off into space as he voiced his thoughts out loud. Julian had skittered back, the familiar sound of Logan's voice sending his mind into frenzy. Death really had touched his memories because now he struggled to remember what he sounded like when he sang. Maybe it was the dead look in Logan's eyes that also tainted Julian's memory of his singing, how he expressed himself through music when he had no other way to, but he had the desperate need to hear it again.

"We…I, I never had the chance." Logan slowly looked at his feet as he continued to talk. "You deserve so much better, Jules." Logan crossed his arms over his knees as he rested his head on them. "You deserve the best. The best person to be there for you, to love you back, the best life you could live."

"But you-"He took a shaky breath. "Can't."

The white tulip dangled from his fingertips. "And it's all, my fault."

Julian heard his voice break, the struggle to hold back his tears—even though he was alone—was evident in his voice.

And then he finally let it all fall.

"I'm-I'm so sorry." He was sobbing and Julian realized he had been shaking his head while Logan had been speaking.

He opened his mouth, uselessly. There was nothing he could do. He had made sure of that.

But he whispered anyway, moving closer.

"You stupid boy," He whispered softly. He pretended that the wind carried his words away as they did nothing.

The string tugged again and he fell closer, just sitting in front of him, helpless to comfort him.

"It's…"

He sat silently as the boy he loved continued to break down in front of him. And it was all because of him; Logan shouldn't have felt like this.

It wasn't his fault—Julian could never truly blame him.

He made a strangled noise as he finally broke and dropped his face into his hands.

It was all a mistake.

* * *

><p><em>He was sitting on the hospital bed, Blaine's hand in his as he continued to apologize.<em>

"_I'm sorry, oh god, I'm so sorry Logan-"_

"_Stop it," He smiled softly at Blaine, who flushed slightly and looked down embarrassed. "There was no way you could've known that I was allergic to crab."_

_As if to prove his point, he leaned forward and took Blaine's chin in his hand, tipping his head back slightly to kiss him. _

_He still couldn't believe that this was happening, after all that waiting—and those tickets that Julian had given him had been a lifesaver._

* * *

><p>Logan leaned his head back against the tree, staring at the sky as he looked back on these memories.<p>

He had never realized that maybe Julian had been saving those tickets for _him_. And he just gave them away to Logan so that he could ask Blaine on a date.

Looking back on this now…things made sense.

He wished they didn't.

* * *

><p>"<em>Logan!"<em>

_Blaine and Logan broke apart in surprise as Derek stormed across the ER, barely acknowledging Blaine before poking his friend's chest._

"_You—idiot. Why the hell didn't you have your EpiPen? And you," He turned to look at Blaine, his hard gaze softened slightly but still stern. "Didn't you know he's allergic to crab?"_

_Blaine opened his mouth and then closed it, looking away again as he mumbled what must have been his hundredth apology that evening._

_Logan glared at Derek, not noticing that Julian had been standing at the opposite end of the ER since they had walked in on him and Blaine kissing. Julian sauntered over just as Logan was ready to burst into a fit._

"_Blaine should've known, alright? You two are dating." He swept his gaze over at the Windsor who was focusing his on his shoe. "Try to be a little more prepared next time." _

_He couldn't help but let his tone be cold and harsh and he felt the heat turn towards him._

"_It wasn't his fault!" Logan's eyes were blazing and Julian turned back to look at him, his expression still cold and distant since he had walked in. "For fuck's sake—be a friend for once and quit blaming him!"_

* * *

><p>Julian felt the tug on his wrist as he looked back on this with Logan. Somehow, he was wallowing in nostalgia just as Logan was as they went through the memories they shared.<p>

He else felt a tug on his heart as it continued.

He had never seen Logan so passionate about someone before and it hurt to know that Logan would never look at him like that.

It hurt to even look back on this.

He pulled his wrist back to no avail.

* * *

><p>"<em>Well I apologize, your majesty." Julian's voice was dripping with venom. "I just thought that maybe since you two are in cahoots—being such a close and intimate couple—that maybe he would know that much about you!"<em>

"_SHUT—UP!" Logan had long since stood up and he pushed Julian back. Ignoring the nurses, doctors and patients that were watching. "What the hell do you know, Julian?" _

* * *

><p>Logan winced at his choice of words. God, how he wished he could take it all back.<p>

It was too late for that though, there's no point in wishing for something like that.

"Please forgive me."

* * *

><p>"<em>Just…" Logan closed his eyes and turned away from Julian just as Derek started to move between them. "Go. Nobody needs you here, Larson."<em>

* * *

><p>Julian knew he didn't truly mean it, not now anyway. Because even though Logan did act all high and mighty, like he never needed anyone else, he did. He really did.<p>

So what, he got angry. Hell, if nobody else did.

He knew that, he did.

In fact, maybe it was one of the reasons that he had fallen for Logan in the first place. He wanted to _feel_ so badly that he fought against his very own nature to do so. And he did that for the people he loved. That was something Julian had to value, how strong he was. Even if that person would never be him.

"There's nothing to forgive."

* * *

><p><em>Julian spun around, hiding his eyes that he knew would betray him. With his back to them, he started to walk away, the same lazy sway that he always had, before calling out.<em>

"_And Blaine?"_

_Blaine looked up but Julian didn't turn around._

"_Take care of him."_

* * *

><p>Logan rubbed his eyes as he tugged absentmindedly at a loose red string on his blazer—it wasn't tearing or coming off. How inconvenient.<p>

He'd had enough of looking back on all the times that Julian had to suffer silently. It was too much to think about now, even though he had taken his medicine, it had ceased to function properly.

He had gotten what he wanted—to feel.

_Be careful of what you wish for._

He was a fool.

* * *

><p>Julian bit at the string, scratching at it, trying to break it in any way possible because the damn thing was keeping him here. He was also trying to find some desperate distraction from what he had just seen. Is this what it was going to be like every time Logan looked back on something?<p>

He needed to get out of here, exist as a fucking ghost or something, he didn't care.

He just needed to get out of here and find some way to stop Logan from hurting so much.

He uselessly tore at the string.

"It's not your fault."

The string didn't snap.

* * *

><p>Adam tilted his head as he stared at Stuart house; there was no way it could happen there—too many people. He cursed in aggravation.<p>

Where else could it possibly work?

He nodded in respect towards a group of administrators as they walked past, they had been here since the tragedy—making sure everything was running smoothly. Other fans had tried to get onto the school campus, so they had also installed several guards.

How silly they all were.

He relaxed against the wooden bench as someone walked across his view. It was Derek.

His eyes narrowed at the messy state of his clothes and hair, even from where he sat, he could see the dark shadows under his eyes. He carried a stack of books and papers as he quickly made his way up to Stuart.

Where was Logan?

Adam realized he hadn't seen him much. What, was he hiding up in his room?

Unlikely.

_The cemetery._

Of course. He should've known. Adam frowned slightly, his attention no longer on Derek.

Would it have to happen at the cemetery then?

He stood up, slowly walking back to Hanover with one hand in his pocket and the other running through his hair.

If it was necessary then it was necessary, to bad there wasn't another way.

It would be a shame to desecrate Julian's grave with that undeserving bastard's blood.

* * *

><p>Logan finally stood up, his body ached from sitting for so long but he didn't care.<p>

The sun had already started to set and he needed to get back to Dalton. Even though he really just wanted to sit out here, he never really believed that talking at somebody's grave worked, but it felt like Julian was listening.

That's all he could ask for.

He stared down at his hand; the tulip's white petals had captured the orange light of the setting sun beautifully.

He wasn't ready to part with it just yet; today had already been full of firsts. His eyes felt incredibly dry and he realized he hadn't eaten all day.

When was the last time he ate?

He moved up towards the headstone and stared at all the other flowers there. Gifts too, from fans. It was irritating to see all these gifts from people that never actually knew him, but that had changed when he saw a young boy running up to his headstone and setting a rainbow colored teddy bear on it.

Logan had watched in slight amazement as he started to say something about how he was glad that 'Grant' stood up for his friends and that it gave him the courage to do the same.

Logan had managed a small smile when he had turned to leave.

He reached out, ready to set the flower on the stone next to all the others before hesitating.

It was like an inner war.

"_Get a hold of yourself; it's just a fucking flower."_

"_But it feels like I'm saying goodbye."_

Finally, he stood up, flower in hand and slowly turned to walk back to his car.

It was his fault that Julian was dead, why the hell would he even want Logan talking to him at his grave let alone leave a flower for him.

Especially this flower.

Who was he to be asking for forgiveness?

All those years spent making sure that Logan was happy even at his own expense, that he was safe and making sure Logan was okay even when he wasn't and then running away until finally he couldn't run away anymore.

Logan let his hand rest on the door of his car as he stared at the corner of the cemetery, at the stone near the lake. His face was expressionless before getting into the car.

He wished he could tell Julian never to love him.

Never to meet him.

That would make everything better.

He fiddled with the loose tassel of red string on his blazer, it wouldn't rip and he sighed before driving away.

* * *

><p>Justin watched from where he stood in the courtyard as Logan walked past him.<p>

His gaze immediately jumped to the white tulip in his hand as he headed back to Stuart. His eyes widened slightly, Logan still hadn't left the flower at his grave yet.

_Poor bloke._

_Blimey, that doesn't even begin to cover it._

Justin continued to watch the younger prefect, remembering what had happened two weeks earlier.

* * *

><p><em>Justin leaned against the wall in Charlie's area of the greenhouse, his eyes shut in exhaustion as his best friend did the same, dropping the gardening tools in defeat.<em>

_No words needed to be spoken for both of them to understand that they weren't up for acting like everything was okay, sure-in front of all the others-but the let their acts down in front of each other. As prefects, they were already struggling to keep everything together. The funeral was tomorrow, and they were also running Stuart. They both knew how bad it had affected Logan._

_They heard the click of the door opening and Justin quickly spun around, stunned to see a defeated looking Logan standing at the end of the greenhouse._

_He wasn't even looking at them; he just stared blankly at the ground with his hands shoved into his pockets._

"_Logan? What is-"_

"_You know all the meanings for flowers, right?"_

_Justin nodded, his eyes searching Logan's expression as Charlie turned to look at him too._

_Logan didn't say anything for a while and his fellow prefects were content to wait in silence. He looked up, looking hesitant, but as he locked eyes with Justin he finally continued._

"_What's a flower for….forgiveness?"_

* * *

><p>Justin watched the tulip fall from Logan's fingers as he walked up the steps of Stuart.<p>

* * *

><p>Adam slouched in the chair; his hand propped his chin up as his therapist started opening the folders and looked at him over her silver rimmed glasses. He didn't stare back this time; he was deep in thought, a dark pensive look in his eyes as he stared at the wall.<p>

It was his evening check up, right before curfew.

Two a day, every day—until he was given the okay, he had to attend these.

Meetings did not go well, but Dr. Rice was patient. If he could pull through this, Adam had a promising future.

"So, Adam, how have you been since our last meeting?"

He was pulled out of his thoughts and he shifted in his seat as he turned to look at her, a grin on his face that she had never seen before.

"Better."

She smiled back, looking slightly hesitant but he had already turned back to looking at the wall.

"Much better."

* * *

><p>"<em>NO!"<em>

_Derek pulled Logan back as they zipped up the black bag, he felt two others hold him back and they turned him to face them. Pulling him and Derek into their arms._

"_Huh now, Knave and King of Hearts."_

_Derek felt the twins fighting their own tears as they started to hum softly, it was that annoying Lobster Quadrille. Derek barely fought against them and they held him up as his knees shook. Stifling their tears into the twin's shoulders—Derek didn't even question it at all. _

_The humming and crying continued until the sirens had long since disappeared and the moon shined down on them, high over their heads._

_They did not say 'it will all be okay', 'everything's fine', they simply held them both and continued to hum._

* * *

><p>He was grateful for that.<p>

Derek turned his face into his pillow, wishing he didn't have to sleep so that he didn't have to face his nightmares.

He shut his eyes and waited for the oncoming darkness.

* * *

><p><em>My body aches.<em>

_And it hurts to sing._

_No one is moving._

_And I wish that I weren't here tonight._

_But this is my life._

* * *

><p>Nowadays, loneliness was welcome.<p>

Nobody seemed to understand that he really did want to be alone; it wasn't a cry for help.

And this-the music, singing, losing himself in it-was the only comfort he had.

He needed to be alone, just for a bit.

He needed to be alone with his thoughts, memories and let the music salvage or destroy them-he didn't care. It was his escape and if either of those choices could help, then he would drown in his music.

Logan took a deep breath before his hands started moving across the keys, the soft music filling the anteroom as he closed his eyes. It was an easy tune and he liked the way it sounded.

He struggled to keep it all in, after his visit to his grave, he felt drained of energy. He just wanted to play this song before trying to sleep and he didn't want to take his meds before playing. He wasn't going to let anyone take his music away from him.

Sadly, the song finished too quickly and Logan felt the urge to sleep. Trudging to his room, he collapsed onto the bed, the melody of the song still ringing in his ears as he whispered to the darkness of his room. For the first time since that night, he felt sleep taking its hold on him and he was ready to fall under. The thoughts of Julian's suicide note did not keep him from sleeping and for once, he was glad.

"Your note said it all...I hope you can forgive me one day."

He hoped that Julian was listening.

And he was.

* * *

><p>Julian blinked at the sight of Logan lying on the bed, the moonlight filtering though the curtains just right so that his hair looked like a halo and his skin smooth and pale as he finally managed to drift off.<p>

"Your note said it all…I hope you can forgive me one day."

His eyes widened in confusion as he spoke, wishing someone-anybody-could hear him. Because as he felt the overbearing sense of dread he needed somebody there to comfort him, to reassure him that it was okay.

But it wasn't.

"I…I didn't write a note."

* * *

><p><em>Please forget about me and live <em>

_Those tears will dry completely_

_As time passes by_

_It would've hurt less if we didn't meet at all._


	3. Three

**_A/N:_** I am fully aware or how terrible I am, I'm sorry. Here's the next part of a story I had previously given up on.

* * *

><p><em>Over the moor, take me to the moor<em>

_Dig a shallow grave_

_And then lay me down_

_Lesley-Anne, with your pretty white beads_

_Oh John, you'll never be a man_

_And you'll never see your home again_

_Oh Manchester, so much to answer for_

_Edward, see those alluring lights?_

_Tonight will be your very last night._

* * *

><p>He was dreaming.<p>

It was always when he was dreaming.

"Jules?"

Logan stared at an incredibly confused Julian, who was looking around, turning to see where he was.

If he could, Logan would loathe his subconscious for making him dream about him—again. He anxiously waited for the moment where he watched Julian die by himself, or—

No. He refused to think about his other dreams, the ones that further terrified him into silence and always taunted him from the edge of his mind. The ones that made him wake up screaming and clawing at his own skin until he drew blood.

They had left him dead inside, curled up and silently pleading for someone to help him but no one could.

It was strange though, Logan's dreams were never this vivid. If he hadn't had known better, it was almost like Julian was standing right in front of him.

He tried not to let it hurt.

"Are you dreaming?"

Logan, slightly dumbstruck, nodded and Julian threw his hands up in the air. Logan's gaze went to the red string tied around his wrist and he followed it until he was staring at his own wrist. Tugging at it, just curiously trying to take it off, it curled even tighter and seemed to _hiss_—as if the string were admonishing a child for doing something so obviously idiotic. It pinched his skin before loosening to its original state.

_Why can't my dreams make any sense?_

But…this is the first dream he'd had that wasn't spiraling into his own personal hell.

"Who would've thought, this is what the inside of your head looks like." Julian seemed to be focusing his attention on everything else except Logan, completely averting his gaze.

Logan glanced at the Julian his mind had conjured up. "It looks like Dalton to me."

"I know it does-you really love it here."

It wasn't a question.

'Dream' Julian looked over his shoulder at Logan, their eyes finally locking.

"It's…"

The words died on Logan's lips.

_It's where I feel safe._

_It where Derek is and where you used to be._

_It's…_

Julian nodded, understanding even as Logan continued to stay silent and he suddenly seemed to appear in front of Logan. The red string had become shorter and he stood close enough for him to have to tilt his head back slightly. His eyes looked sad as he finished Logan's sentence for him.

"Home."

* * *

><p>Julian's eyes snapped open and he gasped, stumbling back into-or rather-through the desk.<p>

"Damn it!"

_Now I'm in your dreams too._

He groaned and lay back on the floor, imagining he could feel the soft carpet against his back.

But, Logan had seen him too….

Would he remember him?

_People always forget their dreams._

He tried to ignore the nagging feeling that he didn't want him to forget.

It was probably the first time he'd spoken to Logan-in any way, shape or form-for quite a while.

In the weeks leading up before…Julian had blocked him out, ignoring him and doing everything in his power to avoid him. For both their sake's, Julian could barely keep up the act anymore, the three years of painstaking work to do so had started to take it's toll.

And even though trying to protect Logan backfired and ended in his…death, he thought at the time that maybe the stalker didn't know about Logan.

He had been wrong.

But still, talking to Logan-even if he thought he wasn't real-was unnerving. It was painful.

There was no way to run or avoid him if he was in his head for fuck's sake.

Was it always going to be like this?

He pushed the feeling of dread away.

Slowly approaching the bed, feeling a bit awkward even knowing that Logan couldn't see him, he leaned over the blond.

There was a dull ache in his chest.

The sun filtered into the room through the curtains and lit up his hair like spun gold, shadows were thrown across his cheeks from his lashes. Julian chewed his lip in concern, even as he slept, his exhaustion was evident. He was pale, the bags under his eyes standing out even more and since Julian had been…pulled out; he had been shifting uncomfortably.

His fingers drifted to the string as he tugged at it, it was automatic, he didn't really mean to.

Leaving the unbreakable red string alone, he reached out but pulled back-not quite used to _not_ feeling-and sighed.

"Stupid boy."

He wasn't quite sure who he was talking to.

* * *

><p>Julian had disappeared.<p>

He felt his breath quicken.

It was that stage where you can feel your physical self but you're still dreaming. He felt his arms tense and he tried to will himself to wake up before it started to get out of control.

A taunting, fleeting voice whispered, "_Too late_."

He was trying to move his self, pinch his arm, or roll off the bed-he just needed to wake up before-

"Logan?"

He knew he shouldn't turn around, he knew how it ended but he always did.

Turning to look at this figment of his dream-different from before-he still fought to wake up.

"I trust you. You're my friend, right?"

It was a little kid, Julian, on his hand there was green paint and a red heart painted on his palm.

Logan didn't know why this image of Julian was in his head, but it was, and it tortured him constantly.

Logan felt himself nodding as the little kid held out his hand with the heart.

Before he could take it, he fell forward, choking on his own blood before vanishing.

Then it was chaos, different Julian's walking by him, making offhand comments, singing, laughing uncontrollably, some looked exhausted.

Some were yelling at him, some were being thrown into bookcases, some were reading, some were sleeping, some were playing tennis, some were smirking-gesturing with those ray bans.

They all vanished except for one.

"…_I'm not needed around here anyway. You said it yourself..."_

He looked up from his desk-just as he did when Logan had walked in the first time-his eyes bloodshot with exhaustion. Not just exhaustion from the week's work or lack of sleep-though it was both-but from years' worth of hiding and keeping himself together. But instead of pushing Logan away or throwing him out, he slowly stood up. Tears still fell down his cheeks as he spoke with a cracked voice.

"How does it feel to know that it was all your doing?"

Logan tried to close his eyes, but he was dreaming-he had to remember that. He was just dreaming.

Julian stood directly in front of him, his eyes empty as he continued.

"That I'm dead because of you, because you ignored me all those years and when you finally told me to leave-I did."

It broke.

Almost like a fracture in the fabric of the dream, where suddenly something just happens.

There's a knife in Julian's chest and Logan put it there, his hands are shaking and he's staring at it in horror as Julian merely gives him a small, bitter smile before falling to the ground.

"How did it feel to kill your best friend?"

"…_I'm sorry, I can't do this anymore…"_

He fades and someone else is there. Logan can't even move as he stares, he's given up trying to wake himself because he knows that as soon as this dream ends he'll wake up screaming, there is nothing he can do.

It was the younger version of himself, staring up at him with hatred-burning hatred-in his eyes.

"Do you see what you've done? You killed your best friend after putting him through years of pain because he loved you and you were too selfish to notice! I thought that we would learn better than to act like people didn't matter, after being our recitals and school events were replaced with meetings and dinners that dad said were more important."

The hatred turned to disgust and horror.

"I would rather be dead, than be you."

Logan started to stir, gasping as his eyes started to open and he could taste his tears.

"So would I."

* * *

><p>Julian was not ready to see what he had left behind.<p>

Logan had stopped crying and was simply lying in his bed, staring at nothing Julian could see.

His eyes travelled over the angry scratches on his arm that he had inflicted on himself in an attempt to wake up, or maybe he really was trying to claw his skin off.

Julian didn't know what it was that Logan dreamed of but it had to do with that fucking letter someone wrote.

Who?

This letter, this goddamn letter, was tearing Logan apart and Julian struggled to remember the events leading up to him staring at the pills in his hand.

It was like he had willed himself to forget because he couldn't recall any of it.

He felt like throwing himself through a window for being so moronic. Because now, seeing Logan, sure it hurt like hell but it also reminded him how much he cared and something stirred in the back of his mind.

Almost like anger.

But not at him or Logan.

At someone else, someone who was part of what he forced himself to forget.

Yes, it was the stalker, _but who was the stalker?_

He was going to find a way to hurl himself off a cliff if he didn't manage to dig up these memories.

* * *

><p>Everything was bathed in sunlight.<p>

He distantly wondered why it didn't make him feel at all peaceful like it was supposed to.

_Oh right, because I got my best friend killed._

He felt his feet move faster over the ground, his lungs burning and screaming in protest as he started to sprint.

Before, maybe Derek could block out his thoughts but now he was entering a stage where his thoughts were screaming out at him. He could no longer block them out and just ignore it.

He was too tired to do even _that_.

Too tired to sleep, too tired to breathe for fuck's sake.

His legs finally gave out—as they did after every morning—and he leaned against the tree, his eyes shut in concentration as he focused on the aching in his legs.

Fuck that, his entire being.

It wasn't just the exhaustion that he felt when it was four am and his eyes drooped as he typed an essay for Literature. It couldn't just be pushed away with a cup of coffee or sleep.

It was cutting into him and he let it.

He let it rip him apart. He needed it.

Hell, his whole world just fell apart and this is what kept him anchored. This is how he knew he was real—this is how he could feel.

He didn't think he would ever understand how Logan felt before all 'this' and he wished he didn't.

He wished he didn't have to know. He wished that Logan could still have the _option_ to feel or not because he would still be himself—his stubborn, fighting self. And Julian would be a snarky, sarcastic bitch and sure, he would be hurting, but he would be _alive_.

And maybe—

Maybe Derek could feel a little less worthless.

He was a shit friend; he tried like he always did. Like it was ever enough.

Finally, feeling the soreness subside a fraction and taking a shallow breath—he continued running.

* * *

><p>He watched as Logan stood on the steps of Stuart, the hill the house was built on looked over the rest of the campus easily.<p>

How high and mighty.

He didn't have a pathetic flower with him today so he assumed he wouldn't be going to visit his precious friend.

Julian had been Adam's friend, Adam had been Julian's _only_ friend.

He was still appalled that no one understood that. How could no one else see how deeply unhappy he was?

Except for those idiots, Derek and that singer from Windsor.

And did they help at all?

Only he could make Julian happy. The times they ate lunch and how he could make Julian smile.

Only he could do that.

Adam crossed his arms and a moment of grief came over him. Because Julian was gone.

Everything had gone according to plan up until Derek walked in on him ready to join him.

All that time, going over details and poring himself into it to ensure it would work—and it was ruined.

Ruined.

By that meddlesome, stupid jock.

Adam rubbed his eyes, Julian was probably all alone.

"I'm sorry Julian."

* * *

><p>He watches the breeze, as if he could see it, but he likes to imagine he can.<p>

Swirling through space, carrying the many wishes that one may whisper to themselves, praying that someone can hear them.

And maybe even fulfill them.

Julian kicked himself, or tried to.

"How eloquent."

He snorted, it was a defensive act, he was very aware. But he still jammed his hands into his pockets.

Defensive against himself?

He was so frustrated, after spending the whole day struggling to remember and just watching Logan waste away.

It was all his fault, Julian did this, and he couldn't lift a finger to help fix it.

How peachy.

Peachy and eloquent, really defines him, doesn't it?

Logan was just staring out at the campus blankly, the fire in his eyes had long gone and left nothing but dark shadows that Julian detested. They were the kind of shadows that kids were scared of, the kind that lurked in the back of your closet—they were empty.

Julian couldn't stand it, and neither could Logan. Deep down, somewhere, Logan had to feel some sort of hate for it—

_Oh God_.

Julian was an idiot.

* * *

><p>Derek trudged up the stairs, barely able to lift his feet before stumbling into his room. He didn't even care as the door stayed open or the fact that he was sweaty and his muscles were <em>burning<em> with pain.

He just wanted to sleep, without begging to wake up.

Because then he would just start this cycle all over again.

He wanted desperately to sleep, dreamlessly, and never wake up. He didn't know that his friend felt the same, only differently.

He was begging to die.

Because dying and laying down to sleep are quite different.

Sleeping is peaceful and relaxing—and escape that, in a way, ensures you _may_ wake up.

Dying is violent and forever. At least the kind of death he was begging for, in which he never lives and the other never dies.

So really, his friend wishes to never have lived.

And that just makes it all the more terrible.

* * *

><p>Darkness surrounded him.<p>

He hadn't realized he'd become scared of the dark.

How pathetic.

Yet he couldn't help but fear and feel a flutter of panic in his chest as the shadows caught his attention in the corner of his eye. It was like he could see their faces—faces of shadows, yeah, he really was going crazy.

Leering and grinning, if the twins could see them they could certainly learn a few things about those smiles of theirs.

They were shadows and there was not source of light to make them dance along the corners of the room but staring into them long enough—thinking about them long enough—he could see them shift and maybe he was imagining it but they were moving. They were growing darker and darker, and if it were possible, they were not getting any lighter. Because if something gets darker it always has to be lighter somewhere, because dark can't exist with light.

Suddenly, he wasn't so sure.

* * *

><p><em>Hindley wakes and says:<em>

"_Oh, whatever he has done, I have done."_

_But this is no easy ride for a child cries:_

"_Oh, find me…Find me, nothing more,_

_We are on a sullen misty moor_

_We may be dead and we may be gone_

_But we will be, we will be, right by your side_

_Until the day you die_

_This is no easy ride_

_We will haunt you when you laugh_

_Yes, you could say we're a team_

_You might sleep_

_But you will never dream!_


End file.
